Get the Hell Out of Pennsylvania
by NovelGrl89
Summary: ADOPTED FROM MRSJHALE44! Begins on Chapter 4! The Winchester brothers take on a case in rural Pennsylvania. What will happen when Sam and Dean encounter Yellow Eyes while trying to help out the college girls involved in the mess?
1. Little Miss Crazy

**Hey guys! So, for those of you who know me, no introduction is needed, except that I'm really sorry I haven't posted anything in, seemingly, forever. I'm trying to see what creative juices are stirring around in my head, so mhopefully I'll have something other than this story out for you. Maybe. I hope.**

**For those of you that DON'T know me: Hi! I've adopted this story from one of my best friends, MrsJHale44. She was no longer able to write it and I had an idea for its continuation. So, I hope you all enjoy it. Personally, I think it's some of my better writing(at least on this site) so far, so I'm pretty proud of it.**

"Ugh. What's the point?" Casey looked like she was trying to hold back from punching these new weird guys that had no business asking about Claire, according to her.

"We just want to help." Sam explained, trying to be as sympathetic as possible.

"We think we know what kind of freak did this." Casey lifted her head from the table where she had laid it down.

"What?" Sam looked over to Dean, clearly disgruntled that Dean was being so open with their secret, but Dean pressed on.

"We might know what's responsible for what happened to your friend."

"Woah. Wait a minute. So…you believe me?" shock was evident on Casey's face. Sam took over, attempting to cover up some suspicion that this girl might have acquired.

"Well, what he means to say is that…" Sam took a minute to think of something that wouldn't blow their cover. "We just want to know your side of the story."

Casey made a disgruntled face before deciding that she didn't really care if these guys thought she was crazy. She thought she was crazy herself. She began her story, telling them about how she was walking to the minimarket down the street to get a few groceries for their apartment when a weird sensation came over her and she suddenly wasn't able to control her own movements. Her body was moving on its own and it was like there was someone else in her head.

"So, wait, you were awake this whole time?" Dean asked to clarify what she was saying.

"What are you? Stupid? I just said that." Sam gave Dean a look that said 'you really should just keep your mouth shut around her'. And he was right.

"Please continue." Asked Sam.

So she did. She went over everything from her possession to the moment she woke up with Claire's heart in her hand.

At that point, Chelsea reentered the kitchen to grab a glass of water, but stopped when she saw Sam and Dean still sitting in the room.

"Oh, you two are still here?" It was really more of a statement than a question "Was there something else you needed?" she asked, looking at Casey questioningly.

"Um, yeah actually. Can you think of any reason anybody would want to hurt Claire?"

Chelsea took a moment to think before answering 'no'. Sam wasn't convinced, but didn't want to press the subject, she _had_ just lost her friend anyway. With that, the two of them were kindly escorted to the door and said their goodbyes. As soon as they left however, Chelsea walked back over to the kitchen, where Casey was sitting at the table, staring at a particularly interesting spot.

"Case?" She looked up, slightly wide-eyed, with a look of near surprise. "You okay?"

"…yeah." She went back to staring at the table. "I only killed my best friend." Chelsea didn't know what to do. She and Charlotte had tried everything to console their friend, especially when she lapsed into these catatonic phases. Nothing seemed to help though, so they had begun to just let her sit there and finish acting weird. Not that normality was a regular occurrence recently.

Chelsea walked back into her room, after placing her used glass in the dishwasher. Her room didn't bring her the comfort it once had. She had shared it with Claire, and now half the room was like a wasteland. Her dad had moved everything out. She didn't have a mom; she had died when Claire was just six months old. It was a shame she never really knew her.

Almost robotically, Chelsea walked over to her bed and plopped down on it, attempting to forget about everything that was going on in her life. She just wanted to sleep. And, soon, she got her wish.


	2. What do you WANT?

Sam lay in bed in the convenient little motel that was just across the street from the college the girls went to. Something was bothering him. Aside from that Casey girl clearly being possessed by _something_, Chelsea seemed to know more than she was letting on.

"Dean." He whispered loudly. Really, there was no point in whispering, he wanted his brother to wake up anyway. When Dean didn't flinch, he called out again. The second time, his brother grunted in an aggravated response.

"What d'ya want?"

"Were you paying attention to Chelsea?"

"The brunette? Nah, personally I like the chick with the highlights." Suddenly awake, Dean shifted in bed to face Sam, who was just a few feet away from him. "I knew you got a thing for her!"

Sam just looked at Dean with a 'you've-got-to-be-kidding-me' look.

"No. Dean, I'm serious. She was acting weird. I think she knows something." Dean got bored of Sam's denial and quickly dismissed the conversation, going back to sleep. Meanwhile, Sam continued to lie in bed, deciding that he would try to talk to this girl that felt the need to lie to them.

The next day, the Winchesters woke up and drove around to find a decent diner for breakfast. Dean ordered the biggest meal on the menu, while Sam settled for scrambled eggs and sausages. Mid-chew, Dean began reciting the day's plan.

"So, I think we should find out about the girl's parents; see what they know." Already having made plans for the day, but not wanting Dean to know the truth, Sam attempted to cover his tracks.

"Uh, actually, I already made plans." His hopes that Dean would respect his privacy, and not pry were in vain of course.

"Plans?" Nothing more need be said, as Sam understood that his brother wanted more information about what he would be doing.

"Oh, uh, you know, I just wanted to hang back. Maybe check out the school. See if anyone around here might know anything else." A kind of realization sparked in Dean's eyes, followed by a mischievous grin, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Oh, I get it. You wanna check out that Chelsea girl." It wasn't a question and, knowing this would be the only way to keep Dean out of the way, Sam accepted this story.

"Well, yeah." He did his best to sound embarrassed about being 'found out'. It appeared to have worked, as Dean gave his 'player' smile and accepted Sam's excuse.

"Sure Sammy. Go get her." Dean leaned back in his seat in the booth they shared, locking his fingers behind his head and grinned more.

"Hey, you know, I think I might even join you later. Maybe see how that Charlotte chick's doin'." Glad that Dean bought his story, Sam just gave a soft grunt in response and zoned out while finishing his, now cold, breakfast. Dean took little notice, deciding that his brother was just acting the part of a sappy, lovesick puppy.

The college that the girls attended was only a few minutes away from the diner, with they apartment not far from there, so the boys just parked back in the parking lot of their motel again. Sam made his way to the apartment that the girls shared, while Dean went to find out where Claire's parents lived.

When Sam got there, he knocked and waited for someone to answer the door, idly glancing around the hallway. Casey answered the door and, upon seeing who had knocked, immediately got frustrated and rolled her eyes.

"What do you _want_?" Put off by her temper, Sam got quiet.

"Uh, is Chelsea here?"

"Why? Do you want to bang her? You're wasting your time, buddy. She's too big a prude." Her frankness made him even more uncomfortable, but he continued to try and find the brunette.

"Um, no. I just needed to talk to her again…about your friend."

"Whatever. She's in class. She should be back in about three hours; it's a full day for her."

"She went to school? But I thought-"

"Yeah, well, she had already used most of her excused absences and didn't wanna fail for skipping out. These teachers are assholes; they actually take attendance."

"Oh, ok. Thanks."

"Mhm." Casey practically slammed the door, glad to be rid of the 'pest'.

Sam walked back to the college campus and wandered around, glad that he still looked like a student; if he didn't people would probably think he was some kind of creep, wandering around a school with , seemingly, no purpose. After an hour though, he sat down on one of the benches outside of the gym. Looking around, he took in all the students milling around and was reminded of his normal life as a student. He missed it, especially having friends, but knew he couldn't go back to it.

"Sam?" He turned his head to the direction where he heard his name and saw Chelsea. She wasn't puffy-eyed or red-faced, but he could tell she still was far from happy. "What're you doing here?" Caught off guard, Sam stumbled for words, but quickly gained his composure.

"I needed to talk to you. I went by your apartment, but Casey told me you'd be here."

"Oh. Well, I have a class in a minute, but after that we can talk if you want. I usually get out really early."

"You don't have a class after that?"

"I do. But it's just chorus and it's really boring. I'm only in it because they give me a scholarship for being there. I don't take it very seriously. They won't even notice I'm gone."

"Okay. So, I'll be here then, I guess."

"Sure, see you in twenty?"

"Sure." So Chelsea left Sam at his bench.

She really did come back pretty quickly, explaining that it was a weight lifting class; all she had to do was pretend to work out for a few minutes. The 'teacher' really didn't care and was only there to take attendance.

"So, you want to go grab some coffee or something? There's a café by my place, if you wanna talk there." Sam agreed and the two made the short walk to the café that Chelsea had mentioned. It was quaint and practically unnoticeable if one didn't already know it was there. But the atmosphere was nice and, as Sam found out, they served a really good cup of coffee.

"So, what did you wanna talk to me about?" Chelsea questioned as she put her bag of notebooks on the floor by her chair.

"Well, yesterday, I asked you something." Chelsea lifted an eyebrow, as if asking him to be more specific.

"And?"

"I asked you if you knew of anyone that might want to hurt Claire. You said 'no.'"

"Okay? What's your point?"

"I don't think you were telling the truth."

"So, you think I'm a liar."

"Well, you weren't being honest." Chelsea began to get a little angry at the boy in front of her.

"Who are you to tell me whether or not I was telling the truth?" She whispered angrily.

"I just want to help. I have an idea what might be behind this, but I need you to be honest with me."

"Maybe I AM being honest! Besides, maybe you wouldn't believe me if it were something really weird!"

"_Is_ it really weird?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

"Promise not to send me to the psych ward?"

"Promise." Sighing, Chelsea began telling Sam about Claire.


	3. Confessions

"She told me last year. I didn't believe her at first. I mean, no way. She said, when she was like, a month old, her grandpa came over her house for a visit. Her dad was at work, so he didn't know about it. But, he got home soon after.

"Claire's mom told her dad later that, a while after her grandpa came in, he got weird. They started talking about the treatment that Claire needed, because she was born with some heart disease. The doctors didn't know if she would live past the age of five. Honestly, it's a total miracle she lived ling enough to go to grammar school, let alone college.

"But then, she said his eyes turned yellow, and he started to talk funny, like it wasn't really him." Chelsea paused, watching Sam, unsure if she should continue her story. He seemed to be listening intently though.

"He sat her down and told her he could help Claire; he could cure her heart disease, but he needed her to agree to something first.

"What was the agreement?"

"He wanted her to let him into her house the night Claire turned six months old."

"Why?"

"I don't know. He said no one would get hurt. She just had to give him permission. I don't even think she had to answer the door or anything." She shrugged her shoulders and leaned back in her chair before continuing.

"I dunno. Sounds like a good deal, don't you think? You know, he won't hurt anybody, he won't kidnap your kid, and he won't kill you. Letting him inside seems okay, right?" To keep her talking, Sam nodded.

"Well, she said no."

"And what happened?"

"Not much, at first. He was going to kill her. He roughed her up a bit. I think that was really just to scare her into changing her mind though."

"He didn't kill her?"

"No. Claire's dad came home and got him to stop beating her. He had to throw a few punches before it happened though."

"Before…what happened?"

"Well, something weird happened. Apparently, he started screaming and, Claire said her parents saw some kind of black smoke shoot out of his mouth. Not like cigarette smoke. It was like, I don't know, like a smoky tunnel or something." After learning this vital information about the yellow-eyed demon, Sam concluded that he should probably talk to the people that encountered the demon to begin with.

"Chelsea? Do you know how I can contact Claire's mom? I think I should talk to her."

"Well, good luck with that. She's dead. She died the day after Claire turned six months. We don't have any hard evidence, but Claire and I think it was that _thing_. Just like he killed Claire."

"So, you think the same thing that killed Claire, killed her mom?"

"You heard Casey, right? I know she told you. If it wasn't him, then who the Hell could have _possessed_ a girl and ripped another's heart out? Right out of her chest!" Chelsea was getting emotional and her voice was raising as she lifted herself from her stool, alarming a few people around them. She saw that she was attracting stares and composed herself.

Embarrassment settled in as Chelsea sat back down, sipping her hot chocolate. Her embarrassment was clear on her face too, as she hung her head low, scrunched her eyebrows together and glanced around at the people around her.

"I believe you." Sam's statement snapped her out of her mild state of anxiety.

"What?" She wanted to make sure she wasn't imagining things because, let's face it, it was a pretty crazy story.

"Yeah, um," Sam tried to plan out how he was going to go about what he wanted to tell her. "I actually know what it's like. I know what you're going through." Chelsea snorted in disbelief.

"Yeah, that sounded stupid. Sure, you see tunnels of black smoke shoot out of people all the time." Sarcasm was dripping from every word she said. She leaned back her chair, upset, and forgetting her previous humiliation.

"No, I mean it. I know what it's like."

"Pssh. Prove it."

Thinking of a way for this girl to trust and believe him, Sam did the only thing he could think of. He took her hand, left the tip on the table and started heading for the door.

"Come with me."

"What?" Chelsea was getting confused and a little scared by this man's sudden change in demeanor now. "No! Where're we going?" She tried to pull away, but Sam hardly even noticed; he was too focused on his destination. "Let me go!" She finally managed to pry herself from his grasp and took a few steps back. Sam took notice of this and turned around to meet fuming brown eyes.

"What's your _problem_?" Chelsea screamed at him once they were out of the café and she was free of his grip. Sam was stunned at her outburst, but after thinking about what he had just done, he realized she probably had the right to yell at him.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I really think you should see this."

"What is it?"

"It's back in our motel room." Chelsea gave Sam a look of confusion and disbelief.

"Do you seriously think I'm that stupid? You're probably some kind of rapist or something, aren't you? Sorry, buddy, but I'm not the dumb blonde from horror movies." Chelsea pushed past him and continued to make her way back to her apartment, picking up her pace when she remembered that Sam knew where she lived.

Sam was at a loss but, not knowing what else to do, he made his way back to the motel that he shared with his older brother. Chelsea was already lost in the small sea of pedestrians, so there was no risk in scaring her further.

**Hey, it'd be really cool if you guys could review. You know, let me know if you like the way the story's going and all. Thanks! **


	4. Daddy Dearest

**Hey, sorry it's been so long since the last chapter. I had school and then summer started. Yeah, you'd think that would mean I have more time right? Well apparently I don't haha. Anywho, I'm not satisfied with posting this chapter, but I was getting really frustrated with it taking so darn long, so I'm posting it anyway. I hope it can hold you guys until the next one.**

Dean was bored. This research stuff really wasn't his cup of tea; usually Sam did it, leaving Dean to be the brawn of the operation. But Sam had such bad luck with girls that Dean figured he owed it to his little brother. It took him a good hour, but he did manage to find that Claire girl's address; it was only a half hour's drive away.

When he got there, he pulled the Impala up to the curb and took in the sight of the brick-face house. It was in a quiet suburban neighborhood, with a farm just down the road. He made himself look as professional as possible, adopting the identity of an FBI agent. He made sure his fake ID was safely seated in his pocket, and exited the car, making his way for the front door. A man answered the door, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Hello, sir. I'm agent Lee." He briefly flashed his fake badge to prove his 'authenticity'. "I was hoping you would give me a few moments of your time to discuss the events of the past few days." The weary man didn't seem to be terribly thrilled about having to talk to another police officer, but let him in anyway.

"You want something to drink?" Claire's father asked as the two of them sat down in the small living room. Dean politely declined the offer, opting instead to look around at the various pictures that adorned the walls. Most of them had Claire as the main focus, with several picturing her father as well. Dean was confused though to find that only one had a woman other than Claire in it. He assumed it was her mother, but he doubted a man would keep a picture of his wife on display if they were divorced. So, where was she?

"Might I ask where Claire's mother is?"

"She died a long time ago."

"Oh." Awkward. "I'm very sorry." A moment of silence passed before anything more was said.

"So, what was it you wanted to know?"

"Well, what's been keepin' us up late at night is that there doesn't seem to be a motive." Dean was trying to take extra care not to say 'death' or 'kill' around this man.

After a moment of thought, Claire's father told him that he didn't know why anyone would want to hurt Claire. Since that was really the only question Dean had prepared, he asked some general questions to make his cover look more convincing: 'Where were you at the time of the attack,' 'Had she been doing well in school,' etc.

When Dean was done, he shook hands with Claire's father and was escorted to the door. He extended his gratitude again and left the withering, middle-aged man alone in the lonely house.

Totally stumped, Dean decided to see if he could find information about the demon they were dealing with. Since he didn't know where the local public library was, he decided to scour the college campus for the use of theirs.

He managed to find an open computer in the back of the packed building, and sat down to start working. But, of course, being Dean, he got bored quickly and chose to take a 'study break' and check out the college girls that wandered in and out of the room he occupied.

For a while, he managed to lock eyes with a redhead across the room. They flirted with their eyes until a boy came up behind her, surprised her, kissed her and led her out of the library.

After that, Dean couldn't find another distraction, so he stared at the computer screen. He had already looked at all the sites he could think of. Once more, he glanced around the room, desperate for a distraction. His wish came true.

In one of the movable aisles of books located in the center of the room stood Charlotte. She kept glancing at a small piece of paper in her hand, and at a row of books stacked in front of her. Picking up the papers that had accumulated in front of him, Dean gathered his things and walked over to the petite girl.

"Looking for something?" Without looking at who was speaking, Charlotte responded.

"Yeah, I can't find 'Small Animal Breeding.'"

"Maybe it's checked out already."

"No. I already asked Andy at the front desk. She said it was here." Spotting the book she was looking for on the top shelf, in the wrong place, Dean slid it out from in between the other two books crushing it and held it in front of the confused girl. Surprised, Charlotte looked up to finally see the face of her 'rescuer'.

"What're you doing here?"

"Gee, I'm just peachy. Thanks for askin'." Dean said this in a way that no human girl could ever be mad at him, meaning Charlotte was helpless to do anything, but grin a little.

"No. I mean , you're not a student here, are you?"

"Nah. I'm just here so I could see your pretty face."

Charlotte blushed and tried to hide a smile by tilting her face downward.

"Yeah, well I guess your face isn't too shabby either." Charlotte started to walk off, but Dean, having just been slightly dissed, cut in front of the girl, eager to win her over.

"Hey hey hey! Now I can't let you go after _that_. Now you have to let me buy you lunch." Grinning, Charlotte looked up at the man.

"Well, the dining hall's right next door. Maybe _I'll _buy _you_ lunch." Raising his eyebrows in amusement, Dean followed the college girl out of the library and into the school's dining hall, where the cashier scanned her ID before letting them enter the buffet-style cafeteria.

Once inside, Charlotte handed Dean a green ceramic plate and told him to go wild, and walked off to fill her own. After doing so, she found an empty table and started eating her slice of pizza, while wondering where the muscular man was. When she spotted him on his way over to the table she had picked, her jaw dropped slightly at the amount of food he had managed to fit onto the plate she had given him, and the two others that had joined it.

"What? Ya never seen a guy eat before?" Closing her mouth, Charlotte grinned a little and played with her ziti with the tip of her fork.

"Not that much." Dean sat down and started working his way through the mounds of food he had gathered from the buffet.

Dean started on his three slices of pizza, as Charlotte merely looked on.

"Ew. How can you eat that? I'm pretty sure the pepperoni isn't even actual meat. Claire would always say that the meats here were actually dead squirrels and pigeons that the cooks caught on campus." Charlotte's good mood was gone however, once she realized the morbidity of her statement. Embarrassed and slightly upset, she looked back down at her food and took a somber bite.

Dean's chewing slowed, as he judged what he should do, with his elbows propped on the table.

"Hey." She looked back up at him, catching his eye as he was about to say something she could only assume was meant to be consoling. Unfortunately for Dean, he had a huge smear of sauce on his chin. Before Dean could even begin speaking, Charlotte burst out laughing, confusing him.

Grabbing a napkin, Charlotte wiped it off for him, in a very maternal fashion.

"Uh…thanks." Dean said unblinkingly.

"Welcome." Charlotte responded, quickly moving her hand back to her lap.


End file.
